Chapter 173 – Puppet Smith.

“Take care, Mr. Edmund. Remember, you need to pay for the permit first and also cover the registration fee for your craftsman friend.”

A woman with orange cat ears called out from a room as an armored figure stepped through the open doorway.

“Sure…”

“Come back if you have any further questions, Mr. Edmund!”

“I will…”

Rusty came out of a room holding a piece of parchment covered in numbers, all related to his new project: establishing a smithy within the city. Although he had secured rights to the decrepit building he was occupying, the situation turned out to be more complicated than he had expected. He had gone to the city hall to handle the last few legal requirements for opening his shop, but the meeting quickly became a tangle of unexpected bureaucracy.

Under his arm was a small stack of papers he still needed to read and sign. While the city had first appeared to operate with little oversight, the reality was far more structured than he had realized. Running a shop involved taxation and multiple permits, some of which made little sense to him. One example was the mandatory hazard insurance fee, which was significantly higher because he lived in the slums, where crime was more prevalent.

“Why do I need to pay this? It’s not like they’re offering much protection.”

“In theory, they’ll assign a guard closer to your location to help with any thieves.”

Alexander replied as he tried to make sense of the policy.

“In theory?”

Rusty repeated, unconvinced, and soon even Aburdon jumped in.

“Ha, you humans have strange ways of extorting one another. I bet that guard never shows up, even if we pay the fee.”

“Well…”

Alexander stopped himself from answering, but the reason was clear. Aburdon was right. The guards in the city followed specific patrol routes and were not eager to put themselves in danger for others. They protected the prominent merchant district, but when it came to the slums, they mostly stayed away.

“So this means I’ll have to rely on myself?”

“Not necessarily. You could always hire some adventurers. It would probably cost us less than what the city charges for protection.”

Alexander responded, and Rusty nodded. The city required a mandatory hazard insurance fee, but there was another option that offered actual protection. Unfortunately, it cost nearly ten times more and was well beyond what Rusty could afford. Hiring a few E-rank adventurers to guard his home would cost about half that amount each month. He could spend even less by hiring mercenaries instead. There were a few viable options for Rusty’s growing business, but he had not yet decided which one to choose.

“( – ⌓ – )”

“Sorry it took so long, Gleam. The queue was a lot longer than I expected. Why don’t we head back to our lair?”

Gleam had been waiting outside and had nearly fallen asleep. Once he arrived, she took her usual place on his shoulder, and together they returned home.

“(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)”

“Gleam!”

As soon as they arrived, Gleam hopped off to play with the children while Rusty went down into the basement. He spread out all the paperwork and began reading. While he could have asked Aburdon for a summary, he wanted to understand everything himself and learn from the process.

Rusty sat in the basement, surrounded by crumpled documents and neatly stacked parchments. He understood the importance of staying organized to avoid confusion later on. The fees for running the smithy were a concern, but they were manageable. He could earn money by selling monster parts or ingots, just as he had in the other city. If he managed to locate raw resources like iron ore veins, he could easily refine them into ingots using the system he relied on.

“So many fees. No wonder humans struggle to survive in this world.”

As a monster, Rusty had no need for food or sleep. He required no upkeep and could live in a hole in the ground without being affected by the elements. Although his body would eventually begin to rust, it had become highly resistant over time, and repairs were simple as long as he had access to raw materials. The problem he faced now was unrelated to survival. It had to do with his second alter ego, the one meant to serve as the blacksmith.

“I should probably test it first. The body might need a few adjustments.”

It was time to try out one of the shell bodies he had built. The one he used in the city was designed to resemble an adventurer, but the one he planned to use in the smithy would need to be entirely different.

“Let’s get the parts out first.”

In the spider-infested forest, he had found his first head, the head of an apprentice blacksmith. Along with it, he had discovered papers that included the man’s name: Oswald. The head bore a scar on the cheek and was noticeably rounder than Edmund’s, which forced Rusty to adjust the proportions of the human body he was constructing. While Oswald hadn’t been a dwarf, Rusty designed the body to be stockier, with a broader frame and a prominent belly. The armor he crafted would reflect that shape and cover most of the body, incorporating far more leather than usual.

Beneath the heavy leather gloves, smithing apron, and thick gambeson-style shirt, a concealed metal shell would lie hidden. It would remain invisible under the layers of cloth, but allow him to move it around through his skills. The result, he hoped, would be a convincing disguise, one that appeared entirely human while concealing the animated armor beneath.

Rusty was a living armor monster who could primarily manipulate metal components. Although it was possible to include leather in the structure, it needed a certain degree of stiffness. Otherwise, it wouldn’t hold together well. After observing how blacksmiths in the city dressed, he had a better understanding of what was typical. This led him to create a design that featured softer textiles than he had originally planned.

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“Now then!”

With that, he began pulling out the parts and assembling them piece by piece. The components clanked as Rusty laid them out carefully on the table. The forge’s glow cast a soft orange light across the workspace, illuminating the individual pieces that would form his second identity: Oswald the blacksmith.

At first glance, the frame looked relatively normal. It was not much different from his usual body, only shorter and broader. Soon, he brought out a few items he had acquired from the city and began fitting them onto the frame to replicate the appearance of an ordinary person. He started with cloth pants and a thick gray shirt, followed by leather boots to cover the metallic greaves. Thick leather gloves went over his hands. To complete the look, he added a large leather apron with holsters on the sides for tools like hammers and tongs.

“Now for the last part.”

To finish the disguise, he needed a helmet. He had the man’s head, but it required the right helmet to hold it in place. He spent some time considering his options, wanting something that would not draw suspicion. Then he found exactly what he needed in the city. Several dwarven craftsmen wore helmets similar in shape to his own face. Some used thick, flat facemasks with narrow eye slits designed to shield them from the heat and sparks that flew up from their work. These armored helmets protected their beards and faces, making them ideal for concealing the dead man’s head inside.

“How does it look?”